


where it hurts

by blazeofglory



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Nightmares, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 09:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: Klaus is traumatized as a child and Allison rumors him to forget it.But rumors don't last forever.





	where it hurts

**Author's Note:**

> tw: heed the tags! if you're nervous, check out the end note for more details, or feel free to message me! 
> 
>  
> 
> “Tell me where it hurts, she'd say. Stop howling. Just calm down and show me where.
> 
> But some people can't tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't ever stop howling.”
> 
> ― Margaret Atwood

For the first few weeks after the subverted apocalypse, Klaus sleeps like a fucking _baby_. He’s not naïve enough to think that his nightmares are never going to rear their ugly heads again, but he’s determined to enjoy the respite for as long as he possibly can. They saved the fucking _world_ , they brought Vanya back from the brink of self-destruction, and they even got Ben back. There’s so much to be happy about, so much for Klaus to _savor_ , and hey, maybe he’s still shaky with withdrawal and it’s a constant thrum of anxiety and disappointment under his skin that he can’t manage to conjure Dave, but he’s doing _better_.

But the nightmares come back, as they always do.

Klaus dreams of the mausoleum. It’s a familiar nightmare, a familiar panic, though no less terrifying in its familiarity—and yet, something is different this time. It’s been over a decade of the same nightmare several times a week, but now it’s _different_. 

Klaus hadn’t known that it could get worse, and _yet_ , it has.

It’s a vivid nightmare, reminiscent of a memory more than anything else. He feels trapped, he feels _small_ , and ghosts are screaming at him—instinctively, he knows he’s in the mausoleum, but this time, it just looks like his childhood bedroom. He’s in his own bed, but this brings him no comfort, because he’s not alone.

Though Klaus knows he’s dreaming, he can’t manage to seize control—he’s powerless to let the nightmare play out. He’s curled up in the fetal position, hidden under the blankets, shaking and crying with fear, and though Klaus has no idea which ghost, exactly, is haunting this dream, a part of him _knows_ anyway, and that’s even more terrifying. 

“Number Four,” comes a cold, harsh voice that Klaus knows all too well. He cries harder, and he’s _terrified_ , and _God_ , how old is he? Thirteen, maybe? Younger? He’s starting to think that this really _is_ a memory that he’s just forgotten until now—surely, this is going to go the way these dreams always do. Reginald is going to drag him out of bed and force him to the mausoleum, and Klaus is going to wake up screaming. 

That’s not what happens.

“Stop your whining,” Reginald scolds, violently ripping the blanket off of the bed, leaving Klaus cold and exposed. He stares up into the eyes of his father, and though the part of Klaus that knows this is a dream also knows that Reginald is dead, he cannot hold back the fear that courses through him. “I warned you what would happen if you did not perform adequately in training, did I not?”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Klaus cries. He can’t stop the tears, even though he knows they’re only making Reginald more angry. “Please, I’ll be better—”

“I do not make empty threats, Number Four.” 

The dream takes a sudden turn, a jump forward in time, and Klaus struggles to keep up with what’s happening. It takes his mind a second to process just what it’s dreamt up.

He’s naked now, on his back, crying harder than before, pleading for his father to stop, and— _no, no, no_ , Klaus realizes what’s happening and he’s _horrified_ and he wants to wake up, oh _god no, no, no_ —

“Dad, please stop, please, you’re hurting me—”

“Silence,” Reginald says. “You are only making this worse for yourself.”

“Dad, please, I’m _sorry_!” 

Reginald slaps Klaus across the face, stunning him, and then his cold, invasive fingers are finally _leaving_ , and Klaus is young and naïve enough to hope that this is finally over, that he’s been punished enough. But Reginald does not stop. He forces Klaus’s legs farther apart and then he—he— 

Klaus wakes up, a scream wrenched from his throat.

 

* * *

 

“He won’t tell me what it was about,” Ben says quietly, and he’s met with frowning faces all around the table. 

“We really shouldn’t pry,” Vanya points out with a grimace.

“It’s not _prying_ ,” Diego retorts, concern making him even more short on patience than usual. He doesn’t notice the way Vanya winces. “We’re worried. You didn’t hear the shit he was saying before he started screaming.”

“We _all_ heard him screaming,” Luther comments, frowning down into his mug of lukewarm coffee. He’s hunched over the table, like he’s feeling _small_ and helpless despite his stature, and damn it if Diego doesn’t feel the same way. “It was awful, I thought he was being tortured.”

Five glances between them all, but his shrewd gaze only lingers on Diego. “What _exactly_ did you hear Klaus say?”

Diego hesitates, glancing towards the hallway to make sure that Klaus hasn’t snuck downstairs to eavesdrop. It would probably only upset Klaus more to know that they’re all sitting here discussing him, whether they have good intentions or not. If Klaus won’t even tell _Ben_ what the nightmare was about, he certainly doesn’t want the rest of them to know. But Diego is really, _really_ fucking worried, and he won’t keep that to himself. Not anymore, not now that they’re trying to be a better family and actually take care of each other for once. Other than Ben, they haven’t given Klaus the care he needs and deserves for _years_. 

“He was talking to Reginald,” Diego answers, fingers itching for a knife to fidget with. He clenches his hands into fists instead, hidden under the table. “He—he was saying that he was sorry, and that he would be better. He kept saying please. I—I think Dad was hurting him.”

They’re all quiet for a long moment, their faces around the table ranging everywhere from anger to distress. 

“The mausoleum,” Ben says, and there are tears in his eyes that hurt Diego to see. “He’s had that same nightmare a thousand times. Dad used to lock him in a mauseoluem to make him confront his fear of ghosts or some bullshit like that. All it did was traumatize him.” 

“If Reginald wasn’t already dead, I swear to God—” 

“No,” Allison says, cutting Diego off. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet so far. She wipes away a single tear and stares down at the table, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “No, there was never a mausoleum.”

“Just because he didn’t tell you about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Ben shoots back. Vanya looks ready to say something too, but she closes her mouth when Allison keeps talking. 

“Look, I… I have something to explain to you guys,” she says in a hushed voice. Luther looks confused, but understanding is dawning on Five’s face—that look makes Diego nervous that he’s missing something obvious. 

“Then start explaining,” Diego replies.

“You know how my rumors wore off when we messed with the timeline,” Allison starts. It had mostly been little things, stuff they’d actually forgotten that she’d rumored into existence—Diego’s favorite color is no longer yellow, Five isn’t obsessed with peanut butter anymore, harmless shit like that. Vestiges of innocent jokes from a childhood half-forgotten. Diego has a feeling that wherever this is going is going to be a hell of a lot less innocent.

“I rumored Klaus,” Allison continues, sniffling as more tears well up. “To forget what happened. Dad, he—he used to—”

“Allison,” Five cuts in, voice cold. “What did he do?”

“Dad molested him,” she whispers. It’s so silent in the room, you could hear a pin drop. For one long moment, Diego is too stunned to even be angry.

But the anger comes quickly. The room erupts in sound, their voices all overlapping, all thought of not disturbing Klaus’s nap forgotten. 

“You knew about this and you never even told any of us?” Luther asks, bewildered and betrayed.

“Did you make Dad _stop_?” Vanya asks, crying so hard that her words are almost impossible to understand.

“What the _fuck_ , how much do you _know_?” Ben demands, looking pale and sick. 

“I’m glad Reginald is dead,” Five says, steady but _angry_ , a dangerous look in his eyes. 

“Why?” Diego asks, voice carefully flat, and they all turn to look at him. “There’s more to this, don’t think we’re stupid. Why did you make Klaus forget?”

“I was trying to help him,” Allison says, crying harder now. 

“ _Bullshit_!” 

Allison hides her face in her hands, shoulders shaking as she cries, and then the words start coming. “He was going to tell everyone,” she says through her tears. “He was going to go to the police and the media, and I—I couldn’t let him do that, not when I was trying to start my career, and I _know_ it was selfish and awful, and I’m _sorry—_ ”

“Dad should’ve gone to jail!” Luther shouts suddenly, and Diego has _never_ seen him get angry at Allison like this before. “You let him get away with this!” 

“No, no, I—I made him promise not to do it again, I told him we’d kill him if he did—”

“How the _fuck_ could you possibly know if he stuck to that?” Diego asks, standing up abruptly, sending the dining room chair falling onto its side, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. “I can’t believe you would do this. This is low, even for you.”

“You need to fix this,” Vanya insists, still crying, and Luther nods fervently.

“There’s no _fixing_ this,” Five points out, rolling his eyes. “There’s no changing the past this time.” 

“I can rumor him to forget again,” Allison suggests, finally looking up at them all, mascara running down her face.

“He needs _help_ , not rumors!” Ben replies, indignant. He stands now too, sending an anxious glance in the direction of the stairs. His eyes meet Diego’s for a second, and then he looks away again, glaring daggers at Allison.

“He didn’t remember what happened, but he was _traumatized_ ,” Ben hisses, voice low and deadly. “Most nights, he can’t even sleep without having nightmares about trauma he dreamt up because you took the truth away from him. _Fuck_ you.”

Then Ben turns and leaves, his footsteps stomping up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

“Klaus,” Ben whispers softly, and Klaus looks up, eyes red-rimmed. He’s still curled up in bed; Ben doesn’t think he’s moved in hours. “Are you okay?”

“You’re all very loud,” Klaus replies, trying to force a smile that comes out looking more like a grimace. Ben sits down next to him on the bed and he doesn’t miss the way Klaus flinches at the sudden proximity. Ben has seen Klaus like this before, defeated and depressed, but it’s not any easier see to than it was the first time. Klaus’s voice shakes when he says, “I heard what you guys were saying. That—that my dream was real, and about what Allison did, and—and you all _know_ about it.” 

Oh, Ben is going to cry again. 

He keeps a careful distance from Klaus, though he yearns to reach out and stroke his brother’s hair. It feels a little like being a ghost again—he can be close, but he can’t give physical comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Ben whispers, and Klaus is crying too. “Klaus, I—I’m so sorry.”

“ _Ben_ ,” Klaus chokes out, sobbing. “He—he— _Ben_ , I…”

“It’s okay,” Ben says gently, wiping away his own tears that are falling too quickly. He feels sick, he feels heartbroken, he feels this pain in his fucking chest that’s making it hard to breathe. Now is _not_ the time for a panic attack, but he’s not sure he can stop it if it comes. “We don’t have to talk about it, okay? Is there any way I can help?”

“Just hold my hand,” Klaus pleads, voice breaking and weak with his tears. Slowly, carefully, Ben lays down in the bed, a foot of space between him and Klaus, and he extends his hand to meet Klaus’s in the middle. 

Klaus’s fingers are cold, but he holds tightly, and Ben hopes that his hand can lend a little warmth. He can’t think of any words to help, any platitudes to offer—all he can do is lay here with Klaus, hand in hand, and cry together. He hopes it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> for this umbrellakink prompt: 
> 
> Ok a weird one but...  
> Sir Reginald has been molesting Klaus for years, until Klaus finally finds strength to stand up to the creep and threatens him with the police, media, court, finally ready to seek justice for himself. Allison finds out a panics, knowing that this will be the end of the Academy and her dreams. She rumours Klaus into forgetting all that Reginald did to him but also threatens Reginald, that if he ever lays a finger on Klaus again, she’d end him.  
> Post-Apocalypse, don’t care under what circumstances, the rumour loses its power and years of abuse just pours into Klaus’ mind into a matter of minutes. He’s utterly, completely broken by this.  
> I don’t even care about the conclusion, I’m just here for the severe angst.
> 
> Bonus:  
> \- there was no Mausoleum, it was just Klaus’ mind creating a false memory to deal with the horror of what happened to him, without having Klaus remember what REALLY happened


End file.
